


Sniper (Alternate)

by peaceloveandjocularity



Series: Sniper [2]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt BJ 2020, Hurt/No Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity
Summary: Please heed the warnings!
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Series: Sniper [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759102
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Sniper (Alternate)

The first round of sniper fire rang through the compound, sending people scrambling to buildings. No one was hurt, a few buildings were patched up once the sniper had stopped for a few hours. But then it picked up again and not everyone was so lucky. 

BJ was coming back from Seoul, coming back early from his R&R. He was whistling as he rounded the corner to the 4077th. He’d had a great weekend. He spent two days just sleeping and eating food that didn’t come powdered. He bathed and slept and ate and now he was heading back to the 4077th to undo all the self care he’d undergone. 

Providing he made it back to the 4077th.

The first shot hit him in the right shoulder. His arm jerked to the side and his jeep screeched off the road into the ditch. When another shot didn’t sound, he grabbed his medic pack and dug through for some bandages to patch up his shoulder. As far as he could tell it was a through and through. It was bleeding pretty decently but he was almost back to the 4077th. He’d just patch it up now and have Hawk really fix it when he got back to camp. 

He was scratched from the brush in the ditch and a piece of metal had dug into his leg and scraped that up pretty decently. BJ stared at the jeep. Could he actually get it out of the ditch and drive it back to the compound? 

Another shot rang out, zipping past BJ and into the tire of the jeep. That answered that.

He ducked behind the jeep, hissing as he knocked his arm and twisted his shoulder. Red started seeping through the bandage. “Damn it,” he whispered, searching for his helmet. His hands were shaking as he plopped it on his head and sat down leaning against the wheel well of the jeep. 

How close was he to the 4077th? Could he risk walking it, running it? This sniper seemed a bit more accurate than most of the others— maybe he was a lot closer than they usually were. The next shot was so close, BJ’s ear started bleeding— he’d nicked him. He ducked down further and crawled into the brush. 

He was so close to the 4077th. He could make it through the tree line, across the field, and then he’d be golden. He pushed through the brush, scratching himself on thorns. Another shot rang off but it didn’t hit anywhere near him. They had to be shooting at the compound now. BJ pushed through the brush to the edge of the field and hear voices talking. It was… maybe Chinese? BJ caught a glimpse of the uniform but still couldn’t tell. 

Their voices were getting closer and BJ snuck into the brush line. He was almost close enough to see the compound. One of the voices sounded alarmed and BJ paled as the men were pointed in his direction. He took off into the brush, ducking and weaving around. A shot rang out again, splintering a tree to BJ’s left. He started to bob and weave back and forth as he ran farther from the MASH. 

A groan ripped from his throat as he slammed his injured shoulder into a tree. It was still bleeding but now it was _definitely_ bleeding. His bandages were more red than white now and he was running away from the compound. 

BJ could barely hear their footsteps behind him as the blood rushed through his ears but he knew they were still there. Every once in a while a shot would ring out— the sniper— followed by a few more— the Chinese, firing at him. 

He ran, his heart racing, his lungs screaming. He ran out onto the roadway and doubled back, trying to make it to the base before the enemy soldiers could see him. They didn’t seem very big on wanting to talk things out. Another sniper shot echoed through the hills and BJ slowed down. His body couldn’t take this push anymore. 

He walked just inside the brush line, keeping his eyes on the road as often as he could. He caught sight of his jeep. Maybe he could patch the tire up and drive it back. His head felt heavy as he slowed down. Everything felt heavy, in fact. He walked to the jeep and crawled up beside it, staying low. He slumped against the tire. He grabbed his bag from the back of his jeep and ducked back down, pulling it with him. 

BJ rummaged through his bag, searching for his wallet. His heart was still racing. His hands were shaking as he pulled out a photo of Peg and Erin. He pressed a kiss to their image and tucked it away, shoving his wallet into his pocket. He stood up and tucked his bag into the bushes. If someone stole the jeep, they weren’t getting his bag. Let them take the jeep. The army was just going to replace is anyway. 

His hands were pale. BJ looked down at his torn pants, the scrap from the jeep was bleeding now too— not badly enough to worry about but enough to hurt. His shin was throbbing. He stood up and gritted his teeth as he knocked his shoulder against the jeep. He should put another layer of bandages on his shoulder. 

He rifled through the medical pack for another roll of bandages, swearing when he found none. He could give himself a shot to take the edge off, but he can’t guarantee that he’d be able to make it back to the compound. He began to walk back to the 4077th; the sniper hadn’t rang off a shot in a while. The walk was long and slow. His body was tired. It was hot out but he was freezing. He rounded the corner to the 4077th. There they were! He could see the camp. 

BJ started walking faster. His legs hurt. His shoulder hurt, his chest burned, but he was almost home. He caught sight of the hospital as another shot rang out. BJ felt sick. He stumbled forward a few more steps before dropping to his knees. His head hurt. His shoulder. His chest and his leg. And now his stomach. He dragged himself across the dirt, his knees wet. It was dirt— why were his knees wet? He looked down at the dirt, darkening with blood. 

His blood. 

“Help,” he whispered weakly. “Help!” 

His hand clutched at his stomach, blood oozing over his fingers. 

“Help me!” Another round shot off and hit something across the compound.   
BJ took as deep a breath as he could. “ _Hawkeye!_ ” If Hawk didn’t come help him, no one would. 

He sank to the dirt, rolling onto his side. He could hear a chopper incoming. His sight was going fuzzy but he could feel the helicopter’s blades whirring the dirt in small dirt devils around him. Dirt settled all over him, leaving a layer of dust covering every part of his body. 

He was going to die here. That was all there was to it. Here lies BJ Hunnicutt, loving father, son, husband and friend. BJ heard heavy fire over the hill. He rolled his head to the side and looked toward the Swamp— if he could only get there, he could get some more bandages and patch himself up until he could get to the OR. 

BJ pushed himself back up to his knees. Every part of his body screamed in pain. His chest heaved with every shuddering breath. “Hawkeye,” he whimpered. “Hawk.” 

BJ could hear arguing from the hospital but he couldn’t make out any words. He heard voices— Hawk! Colonel Potter!— and he forced himself to his feet. Fifty feet, that’s all it was. Fifty feet. Less than twenty yards. 

“ _Hawk!_ ” 

The fighting got louder. BJ could actually make out words this time. 

_“That’s my best friend. He needs help. Let go of me!”_

_“You keep your keister in here, Pierce. Let one of the corpsmen get him.”_

_“They’re more expendable than I am is that it?”_

“Colonel Potter please help me,” BJ sobbed. His stomach was lurching, blood was steadily dripping from his gut. “Hawk.” 

_“I can’t be down more than one surgeon! Corpsmen!”_

_“I’m going, Sherm, and you can’t stop me.”_

Hawkeye burst from the hospital doors, fighting hands off his arms. “BJ!” 

BJ looked at Hawkeye. “You came,” he gasped. “Help.” 

“Let’s get you into the hospital.” Hawkeye caught BJ as he slumped against him. His face and hands were pale and Hawk was sure the rest of his body was too. “Come on, Beej. We’re almost there, okay? You’ll be okay.” 

“Hawk?” 

“What BJ?” He was half carrying BJ to the hospital, stopping every time BJ cried out in anguish. 

“Tell Peg and Erin I love them, okay? And I’m so sorry.” 

Hawkeye’s grip on BJ’s arm tightened. “You tell them yourself when you get back home, okay? You’re not dying because of this. I’ve fixed belly wounds before. You’ll be okay.” 

BJ stopped in place, slipping out of Hawk’s hands. “Hawk?” 

“Don’t. We’re almost there.” 

“I love you, Hawk.” 

“Stop it,” he snapped. “You’re not going like this.” 

BJ gagged, blood choking him. 

“BJ hold on, _please_ ,” Hawkeye pleaded. “Come on, Beej. I love you, too. Come on.” 

“‘m tired, Hawk.” 

Another shot rang through the compound. 

“ _BJ!_ ”

There was no reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr
> 
> MASH: @peaceloveandjocularity
> 
> Writing: @im-writing-out-of-time


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